ATER EDAD HR PURE PS ae

All week-end the underworld of Win- nipeg was in a daze as bootleg joints, gam- bling places and hangouts were combed time and again by grim-faced Mounties, uniformed local officers and_plain-clothes men, until many, in desperation, closed their doors. But, despite the dragnet, “Mike the Horse” continued to elude the police.

Recovering consciousness, but still weak from loss of blood and unaware of the tragic fate of his fellow officer, McDonald, Constable Stewart said the police mug shown him of Mike Atamonchuk resembled to some extent the features of the low- browed thug whose bullet had nearly sent him to eternity.

While officers stuck with grim determin- ation to the forked trail of the gunmen, and radio stations throughout the country announced the slaying and the offer of $500 reward for information that might lead to the capture of the bandits, telephones at Police Headquarters began to ring and con- tinued to jangle throughout the day.

Cruiser cars, prowling through the streets, stopped straggling autos, and occupants were questioned. After twenty-four hours without a rest, detectives were allowed to return home, only to be back within five hours to work another shift. Hardly an hour passed without some suspect being hauled in for questioning.

Early Monday morning a tip from an anonymous source sent three carloads of armed officers speeding to a Selkirk Avenue dwelling where they discovered that the

Light *,

suspect had occupied a room and vanished but a short while before. Unfortunately, he had left no incriminating traces behind him.

HospiraLts AND Doctors WARNED

At noon, Chief Smith broadcast a warn- ing that any doctor, nurse or druggist found treating any man with a bullet wound, and failing to report the case immediately, would be dealt with severely under the pro- visions of the Criminal Code. Hospitals were warned again to be on the lookout for a man with a wounded shoulder. Through- out the city, excitement was running high as the search for the murderers continued, while everywhere bitter anger was voiced at the ruthless slaying of the young and popular officer.

At sunset, Sergeant Harry Alexander, Detective Bill McPherson and Constable Tom Ormond were driving slowly east on Ellice Avenue, their alert eyes scanning every face and car that passed.

Nearing Furby Street they noticed a man emerge cautiously from a side lane, gaze furtively up and down the street and, as he spotted the cruiser car, make with un- ceemly haste for a taxi at the corner.

“Home and Wellington,” he ordered.

“Just a second till I book out,” said Charles Nixon, the driver, stepping toward a telephone.

Next moment the cruiser car came to a halt and the officers bore down on the taxi. Springing out, the passenger streaked like a hunted hare across a vacant lot, disregard-

ing the sharp commands to stop, and ¢ hail of bullets that whined above his hea he doubled into a narrow lane. E

“There he goes—let’s after him!” A flee footed mob of forty schoolboys, just leased from the dull routine of classes, sy denly found themselves participating in “cops and robbers” chase more excitip than anything they'd ever seen outside ¢ movies.

Like a pack of hounds the boys tore j pursuit of the panting fugitive. Over fence down back lanes, in between houses, bac again to the main street, the juvenile rea guard followed the scent, the mob increa ing by leaps and bounds. Attracted by th tumult, more and more cars joined { pursuit. Once again the police short-way sent out its alarm as radio cars reported,

“Four-nineteen. All cars. They're cha ing a man in the rear of Marylar Apartments . . . Four-twenty. The cha is between Furby and Sherbrook. Fou twenty-two. All cars. They’re shootir west of Victor...”

Diving through the Maryland Apar ments, with officers pounding at his heel the fugitive finally shook them off, doubl back, limping from a leg wound, only | face the muzzles of police guns and spe desperately westward. As he ran he. dro ped a mitten containing thirteen .45 calib cartridges. Eluding his pursuers for a m ment in the eleven-block chase, he dash into the imposing Thelmo Mansions. H on his trail, officers with drawn guns rac across the street, swung through the gla

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Page Seventy-six

THE SHOULDER STR1